


Had Him At The Ropes

by quiteaquandary



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Canon Divergence - No Hydra Takeover, F/M, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-26 03:14:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2635949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiteaquandary/pseuds/quiteaquandary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sometimes, his pencil curled into his fingers, a scrap of paper separating him and a desk, him and the world, the curves would flow from him and there would be hair and there would be a strong jaw and there would be a neck and arms and a star--"</p>
<p>A slow build story about two kids from Brooklyn who have spent their whole lives trying to get home. And the rest of the Avengers being hapless rom-com assistants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Had Him At The Ropes

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing Stucky, first time writing in a while, really wanted to try my hand at a slow build. Canon divergence because I don't want to talk about the breakdown of SHIELD or the HYDRA takeover. There will be lots of longing and pining and M-rated stuff in the near future, I know what you want out of a slow build.

Steve couldn’t see the point. Sometimes, when it was dark and the distant sounds of traffic lulled into a white noise behind the static of a meaningless tv show, sometimes he could close his eyes and like dominos little thoughts would drop on the linoleum of his brain and clatter around.

Sometimes, his pencil curled into his fingers, a scrap of paper separating him and a desk, him and the world, the curves would flow from him and there would be hair and there would be a strong jaw and there would be a neck and arms and a star--

Steve didn’t need to be alone, wallowing, to see Bucky. He didn’t have to concentrate to hear him.

_“I had ‘im on the ropes.”_

_“I know you did.”_

_The train is hurtling, too fast. Everything is too fast. A Hydra soldier, impossibly huge, his weapon glowing a traitorous blue, emerges through the steam. The first blast punches a hole in the shell of the train, snow and wind howling through the gap. Steve is thrown from his shield, but Bucky, who has always carried everything, who has always picked up everything, who has always protected Steve, holds it between him and the enemy. He is shooting and it is doing nothing and between breaths the Hydra soldier fires again and like magic Bucky is gone, the shield wrenched from him._

_Steve is seeing but he is not understanding. The shield comes back to him, as it always does, as Bucky always has, and his anger and fear fly with it as it knocks into the soldier. But he doesn’t wait to watch it connect. He’s clinging to the hole in the train, he’s reaching for Bucky, he’s shouting his name and even to him it’s a plea. He doesn’t sound like Captain America, he sounds like a skinny kid from Brooklyn. The next phrase is stronger, commanding._

_“Hang on- Grab my hand-”_

_He’s climbing along the railings, reaching and reaching and reaching-_

_Bucky screams as he falls. Steve can’t say a thing and his vision is blurring and he can’t hear over the dull buzz, over the ache._

_He bows his head._

 

Steve doesn’t need to be alone, in the middle of the night, locked up in his apartment to see Bucky falling, to hear him.

And now. Now Bucky is alive, somewhere, free, somewhere, lost, somewhere. Steve doesn’t get the point of cellphones and television and GPS and SHIELD and any of it, goddamn any of it, if it can’t bring him home.

 

* * *

 

 

“FUCK” Tony shouts and sucks his finger into his mouth to sooth the shock.

Bruce chuckles, not taking his eyes off the computer he’s been staring at for the past 24 hours (give or take a coffee break). At the beginning, he met Tony’s outbursts with concern but after the first 10 the shrieking lost it’s validity. Tony was a prodigy, but he was also hasty, and the amount of times throughout the day he stuck his hand into something with a voltage was not, as Bruce had learned, cause for concern.

“Shut up. Seriously, you, shut up. In fact, new rule: if you laugh when I get hurt, I get to punch you.”

There was a whiteboard in the corner of the lab with the previous eight rules the lab had established in the last fortnight of work. Some of them were rational (the ones Pepper had enforced at the beginning) like mandated food and water breaks, mandated sleep after 48 hours, mandated updates emailed to Pepper throughout the day so she could run Stark Industries with a) a clean conscious and b) without having to hire a nanny for two adult men.

Things had taken a turn for the ridiculous four days into the experiment when, in a fit of “evil genius block” Tony had resorted to throwing various small food items at Bruce to get his attention. There was a penalty of a flick to the forehead, and after the novelty of the situation, and the giant red welt between his eyes, had worn off, Tony decided to abandon the tariffed stress release in favor of less punishable methods.

“Bullshit. You cannot add that to the board.” Bruce grinned.

The occasional annoying disruptance was welcome. Tony was a refreshing change of pace, and they were doing good, if slightly manic, work.

“Watch me.” Tony sauntered across the room, grabbed a dry-erase pen, waggled it at Bruce, and proceeded to add, in huge, flamboyant letters, the ninth rule.

“I’m glad we’re acting like adults now, this is very comforting.” Bruce said, trying unsuccessfully to keep a straight face.

“Watch it, Greensleeves. If you giggle, I will be merciless as the hand of justice.”

Fortunately for Bruce, Jarvis interrupted.

“Excuse me sir.” The smooth AI voice dimmed behind the loud click of the lab door closing behind the chopped red hair of Natasha Romanova.

“Ваши волосы как закат, она дьявол” Tony spouted, looking too pleased with himself for polite conversation.

Natasha didn’t give him the courtesy of an answer as she waltzed calmly into the room, but the stormclouds across her face spoke volumes to something bigger than his insolence.

“What’s wrong?” asked Bruce, his voice full of worry.

“Nothing,” she said, quickly smiling. “I just need both of you at Stark Industries for a meeting.”

“Is Pepper okay?” Tony said, immediately standing to grab his coat.

“She’s fine. There’s just some business we need to talk about. She said to tell you it was about the Otter stocks. She wants to do lunch with both of you. If that’s okay.”

The scientists were moving slowly, gathering up their things, throwing looks at each other. Natasha showing up with a message that didn’t make sense, and a furtive, twitchy manner spoke very ill of whatever “Otter stocks” was code for. This had only happened once before, the team going into a communication blackout for fear of who had eyes and ears in the room - SHIELD or HYDRA. There were places in the Avengers Tower and Stark Industries HQ that were completely free of bugs, but Tony couldn’t be sure the lab was one of them with all the parts and equipment going in and out daily.

Natasha, collected and in control as she was, was visibly affected by whatever was waiting for them.   

It boiled down to a drop of cold fear down the necks of both men. Something was up, and knowing them, something was wrong.

 

* * *

 

 

Pepper’s glass wall office was deserted. Her secretary directed them to a conference room in the center of the building, windowless, one door. They paused before entering.

The car ride over had been silent, Natasha fiddling with her phone, Tony knowing better than to shoot Pepper a “Hey, how screwed are we right now?” text.

If someone was monitoring Natasha’s movements to a point of her using code, they were sure as hell monitoring texts.

“Natasha-”

 

“I don’t know.”

“Okay then. Let’s do this.”

The door opened to reveal Pepper, in her usual crisp suit, hair pulled up in a ponytail. She stood up to greet them, and to make sure the door closed.

“Pepper, what the fuck-” Tony began.

“It’s okay. We’re okay. But we have a situation.”

She touched Tony’s arm lightly as she turned to look at the man still sitting at the conference table. He stood deftly, removing his baseball cap.

“Ladies and gentleman,” Pepper said, her voice full of a bemused reverence. “This is Sergeant James Barnes.”    

  
   


End file.
